Controlled Paradise

Chapter 14: Who Goes

Owl had spent her whole life never missing — and the most precise shot of her life, she had to fire with words.

The headquarters tactical room at a quarter past eight in the morning. Low ceilings, dark metal, a holographic table, and around the walls — training-ground footage behind active glass. Coffee. Sweat. Old metal. In one corner Vance was saying something with the sound off — no one was watching. An oval table, twelve chairs, all taken. All twelve of CHIEF were there. Max stood in the corner, back to the wall, arms folded. He wasn't running this meeting. He was watching.

In everyone's lenses burned the line that changed nothing now and changed everything:

EXPEDITION G-7 / PORTAL CAPACITY 12 / MILITARY SLOTS: 5 — CONFIRMED

Five. Not twelve. Five.

"Five," Marsi said quietly, seriously, without a smile. "Seven stay."

"Why five," someone asked.

"The portal's limit," Max said from the wall. "Twelve per opening. Seven scientists. Five military. Doctor Voronina decided it that way. And she's right."

Silence. They all accepted it. The question now wasn't "how many." The question was "who."

And Owl realized she had to be the first to say it. Before she changed her mind.

"Bullet goes," she said. Not to him. To the table.

Everyone turned their heads. Bullet, to her:

"We're a pair."

"On Earth," Owl said. "Over there you're alone. Here, I am."

And then — for the first time in all the time they'd worked together — she turned her head to him. Straight on.

"A new world. Unknown distances, density, terrain. One sniper at a thousand meters is seven scientists alive." A pause. Her voice level. She held on to that levelness the way she'd hold a rifle stock. "One. Not two. Because two means I'm the one left with nothing when they don't bring you back."

Silence.

"Owl," Bullet said.

"Bring yourself back."

Bullet looked at her for a long moment. Then nodded slowly. Once.

"Understood."

In the corner, Max took no satisfaction in it. Owl caught his face out of the corner of her eye — the face of a man who had just watched the hardest decision of the year: a woman sending her other half into a world that might not give him back, and doing it herself, in a level voice, because that way he'd have a better chance. A sniper's shot. The most precise of her life. And the most expensive.

Riko raised his head.

"Me."

"You sure?" his partner asked.

Riko was quiet a long moment. Then quietly:

"I've got two kids. My older one knows what it means when Dad leaves for two weeks. The little one doesn't know anything yet." A pause. "There was housing funding. Last week the program shut down. This mission isn't two weeks. It's a whole different level. If I come back — my son has his own room within a year." A pause. "I'm going."

"Understood."

Marsi, quietly:

"Brother. I'll kill you if you don't come back. I'll find you in the afterlife and kill you there a second time."

The corners of Riko's mouth slowly lifted.

"Understood."

Owl watched and thought how Marsi always hid the truest thing behind a joke — because otherwise he couldn't carry it. The way she hid hers behind a level voice.

"Bullet. Riko. That's two," Valkyrie said. "Who's next."

Marsi leaned forward. The corners of his mouth lifted.

"I have to say something. Without me this mission is doomed. Seven scientists. Unknown barriers, walls, doors. Who's going to open them? Who's going to become the god of demolitions at this decisive moment in human history?"

"Brute," Bullet said evenly.

Marsi, very calmly, very seriously:

"Bullet. I love you. But that's the wrong answer."

And then Brute. From the wall. Quietly. That settled it:

"He's right. I know explosives. Fifteen years of training. I've got the certification. Marsi feels them. Those are different things." A pause. "Go, and come back."

Silence. Marsi turned his head to Brute. Not as a joke — seriously. Something had just passed between the two sappers that takes other people years.

"Brute. I won't forget this."

"I know. Go, and come back."

"Rat," Max said from the wall.

"Me?" Rat raised his head.

"Yes. Not up for discussion." Max took a step. "Drones. Reconnaissance. The first eyes in an unknown world. And the Orbit-7 satellite — that's how we keep our link to Earth. Rat runs it."

Orbit, from the wall, for the first time:

"Boss. Orbit-7 is my system. It should be me going."

"I need you here. Someone has to hold the channel from this side. If I take you both — and something happens to Rat — we go blind and deaf at the same time. One over there. One here. Like snipers."

Orbit looked at him. Understood — it was the same logic as Owl and Bullet's. He nodded.

"Understood."

Max ran his eyes around the table.

"Bullet. Riko. Marsi. Rat. And me. Five." A pause. "The rest stay on Earth. This isn't a punishment. It's the reserve. If we don't come back — you're what Earth has next."

Silence. The seven who would stay gave their silent assent. Owl could see it: the ones staying took it harder than the ones going. Because going is doing. Staying is waiting.

Later, while the team was kitting up, a stranger appeared in the doorway. An expensive suit, too good for a field scientist's pay grade. A smile a little too wide. He came in as if he were welcome here. Though no one was glad to see him.

"Good morning. Doctor Arjun Mehta. Materials science. I was added to the expedition this morning. Pleased to meet you all."

He held out his hand to Max. Max looked at the hand. Then at the face. Then shook it — briefly.

"Mehta."

"Doctor Mehta, to be precise."

"Mehta."

A pause. Mehta smiled wider — pretended not to notice.

"If you ever need anything about the metal — samples, analysis, whatever you like — I'm your man. I'd very much like to be the first to study the material. For science, of course."

He said "metal" and "samples" too soon. Too eagerly. Owl, who had made her whole life out of noticing the unnoticeable, turned her head half a degree. Bullet did too. Rat tilted his slightly.

"For science," Max said.

"Of course."

Mehta moved off to his gear. Too pleased with himself.

Owl followed him with her eyes — and caught something else. Rhys, the younger scout, was packing cases nearby. Marsi walked over to him — easy, friendly, said something about the terrain. And for half a second something crossed Rhys's face. A shadow. Then — a smile. "Maybe next time." Rhys picked up the cases, headed for the door: "Boss. See you tomorrow."

When the door closed, Marsi turned his head to Max. Looked at him. Then slowly winked. One eye. Barely perceptible.

Owl read it without words. Not "watch Mehta." "Watch those two."

Max nodded. Once.

"We just call him Mehta," Max said evenly, as if nothing had happened. "No title. We're not his enemies. We're his friends. Until he proves otherwise."

"And if he proves otherwise," Bullet asked.

Max looked at him for a long moment. Quietly:

"Then he doesn't come back."

Silence. Serious. Final. Around the circle:

"Understood."

"Understood."

"Understood."

"Understood."

Max went to the door. Stopped. Didn't turn around.

"Assembly at five thirty. And one more thing. If any one of you doesn't come back — I'll bring him back. I won't leave you."

He left. The door closed. Then Marsi, quietly:

"Boys. I think the boss loves us."

Riko — a low laugh.

"Understood."

And Owl stood there thinking that this time tomorrow she'd be watching the gold take Bullet — and for the first time in her life she wouldn't be able to cover him from above.